TENSAI: Fuji Syusuke Rising
by kawaiisuzu
Summary: Fuji, become serious. The world has been waiting a long time." The Seigaku regulars grow up, but one member may have left regrets behind along the way. A continuation about the genius who lacked the ambition to turn potential into reality--until now.


General Disclaimer: the author of this fan fiction does not own Prince of Tennis, which is copyrighted by Konomi-sensei and affiliates via manga and anime series.

* * *

TENSAI

Fuji Syusuke Rising

Prologue

* * *

_Potential? What is potential but the lack of reality?_

* * *

When Tezuka Kunimitsu left Seishun Gakeun, he made the promise to his teammates, to his team, to go pro in the future. It was his parting gift—as a captain, as a friend.

He made well on the promise.

He was scouted.

And he played.

During the year when he was 22, Tezuka disappeared. No one from his loyal worldwide fan base heard from him anymore.

His ranking up 'til then had shown no drops, not a single dip. There had only been marked increase.

His rank was 6th in the world.

He had yet to play a match with any of those ranked ahead of him.

He had not missed a single match during his career.

He missed the match in Brussels.

* * *

Location: Tokyo, Japan

Date: March 8

* * *

A knock on the door.

A slender brunette pokes his head out from the bedroom of the apartment. He isn't expecting guests, but the placid expression on his face never wavers as he walks to the entrance door.

When he opens it, and the grains of wood swing back to reveal the face of a man that the owner of the apartment had only seen digitally or in print for the last four years or so. But the face is one the whole world knows, so the slender young man hesitates when the guest puts a hand on the doorframe, successfully negating any option of the smaller man closing the door on him.

The voice is startling real.

The voice the slender brunette has heard at least once a month, sometimes once or twice a week, via private, rushed phone calls.

"Fuji."

Said man smiles, and he knows it's an enchanting smile, no matter how fake it is. His complexion is fair, and sculpted cheekbones accent the straight nose, a delicate, sensual look that is complete with rosy, molded lips.

It's an enchanting smile, an enchanting ensemble, no matter how unfeeling his hidden eyes may be.

Tezuka nods his head in return to the smile.

He knows the smile is fake.

Fuji still hasn't said a word, and Tezuka is still waiting at the door to what he's pretty sure is the former's apartment. The address was given to him by Fuji nearly two years ago.

Tezuka is also pretty sure that Fuji is not going to invite him inside any time soon.

"There's a park two blocks from here," Tezuka says, and his brown hair falls into his russet eyes. "Should I wait for you?"

* * *

_Search:_

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_Keywords: top one hundred tennis internationally ranked players history Japan Kantou middle school men singles…_

* * *

_Searching…_

_Top Results:_

_Tezuka Kunimitsu (6__th__ worldwide)_

_Yukimura Seichi (8__th__ worldwide)_

_Echizen Ryoma (10__th__ worldwide)_

_Sanada Genichirou (11__th__ worldwide)_

_Atobe Keigo (12__th__ worldwide)_

_Kirihara Akaya (26__th__ worldwide)_

_Ibu Shinji (61__th__ worldwide)_

_Kamio Akira (66__th__ worldwide)_

* * *

Location: Tokyo, Japan

* * *

Fuji doesn't make conversation.

It's unusual because Tezuka is usually the one to remain reticent while Fuji would make witty conversation for the both of them. It was like that throughout middle school, and high school.

Tezuka finds it's hard to move his lips. The spring air is still cold in Japan. That, or the tension in the air was simply palpitating more than he thought.

Fuji, on the other hand, doesn't tell Tezuka why he's silent. He knows he hasn't spoken a word since Tezuka had first knocked on his door a little earlier that day.

The truth is, a slow kind of fear gnaws at the young man. If Fuji opened his mouth, he had no certainty that sane words would come out. They would be the opposite of nonchalant. All of Fuji's will power is already employed in walking slightly behind Tezuka, and observing the changed in the man in four years.

Tezuka had grown into a man, somewhere along the way. He'd always looked old for his age since the middle of junior high, but a well-defined, yet lean musculature is hinted at underneath his sports jacket and jeans. His face is still angular, and the solid jaw line and unyielding bearing show no signs of change. Fuji notices at last the eyes. Tezuka's gaze is still piercing, even though he looks away from Fuji at the moment. His dark irises are clear, but Fuji finds the small lines of tiredness near his eyes that only an artist would see.

Somehow, Tezuka did not grow up. He grew older.

Unbeknownst to Fuji, Tezuka is making his own observations. Fuji Syusuke's form is still petite compared to an average man. In Japan, however, Fuji's height is now comfortably around normal, even if the man's limbs, torso, and neck are still quite slender and effeminate, like a young boy's. Fuji's face is that of a temptress, almost androgynous in the full lips, curving cheekbones and jaw line, straight, small nose, and long-lashed closed eyes.

Tezuka realizes with dismay that this was not the physique of an ordinary sportsman.

If he were indeed going to accomplish what he came here to do… would the consequences measure up?

"Fuji, how are you doing?"

A direct question. One that could not be answered by a nod of the head or such. Fuji is elated and anxious and 'kami-sama knows what else'.

It's the first statement that actually means something. Other than the weather, than the international news' safest topics, Tezuka hadn't ventured near these waters.

"Fine, thank you." Fuji is shocked by the cool, composed sound of his own voice.

Tezuka pauses in his steps, and turns around to face Fuji, who notices that Tezuka's jacket matched well with the deep blue flowers growing near the park benches.

"Are you keeping in touch with the others?"

There's no need to detail whom. Fuji chuckles inside, because both he and Tezuka know that the glory days will never fade.

"By and by, I get greeting cards from all the regulars and Coach Ryuzaki. She still has a few more years left in her at Seishun. Kikumaru visits a few times a year, and brings Oishi with him, occasionally."

There's a wide smile on Fuji's face now. Tezuka feels surprisingly warmed by this. Apparently, he's missed this smile more than he thought.

He hopes fervently that the smile is for tennis, too—that Fuji is reliving his tennis days and smiling—and not just smiling for his old friends.

"Taka-san is busy most of the time, with either the shop or his fiancée. I haven't talked to him in a few months, but we'd kept in touch before that. Kaidou, Inui, and Momoshirou all send seasons greetings and birthday wishes—Inui sends Inui jiru. I still have their cell phone numbers somewhere."

"And Echizen?"

Fuji's smile freezes.

"The same as you, Tezuka. Echizen and I exchange calls only a little less frequently. He calls, you know, to check up on Japan, he says. I know… that he's just lonely."

Fuji's smile gets weaker at the end. Tezuka wonders if this is an actual slip of the mask or if Fuji's letting Tezuka in, finally, intentionally.

"Ah. _Sou desu ka_."

"Mm. _Saa_, he came to visit about two years ago, after Wimbledon."

Tezuka cringes inside. He knows a jab when he hears one.

"Have you been busy, Fuji?"

Fuji's eyes open.

They're a brilliant blue, like ice and steel and flowing water.

Fuji interprets correctly that Tezuka means to say 'I've been busy, Fuji'.

'_Gomen_'

"Everyone's been busy, Tezuka," Fuji says lightly, laughing a little.

"I spent the last four years studying photography. There's a full-time job, a career, waiting for me now." Fuji's eyes are hard, unrelenting. "Just like your tennis, I have what I've always wanted."

Tezuka's voice softens, but remains firm. "You talk about tennis like it's not yours too. You were there with me, Fuji."

Fuji's tone was bitter.

"I quit during high school."

"Just the team. We still had matches."

"You always won."

"You weren't being serious. You let me win, and spent more time snapping pictures of the high school Seishun regulars team for the photography club than actually playing yourself. I want you to keep your promise to me, Fuji. Be serious. Become serious."

Tezuka's voice still retains the resonating tones of a team captain.

"That game we played our third year of middle school… I thought you were willing to love tennis as much as I did after that. We were friends, rivals."

'_Are we still_?' is the unspoken thought.

Fuji laughs.

"I do love tennis. Just not as much as you, _Buchou_."

Buchou. Never once had Fuji called him that before.

Fuji continues.

"And besides, why now? I'm the same age as you physically, even if I am only 6. Did you come back to Japan just to play tennis with me?"

Fuji stops, as if to contemplate his next words.

"You're a pro now, Tezuka. You don't need me anymore. I'm not your rival."

Tezuka's eyes are dark, so dark, Fuji notices, after the words have left his lips.

Tezuka opens his mouth to speak, and the wind ruffles the collar of his jacket. Fuji hugs his own soft suede coat to his body.

"You were always my greatest rival. You still are. I haven't stopped thinking of you as that since we first played a game," Tezuka whispers.

Fuji can see that the lines of tiredness and sleep deprivation are more pronounced. When did Tezuka come to Japan anyways? Wasn't he supposed to be playing a match tomorrow morning in Brussels?

"Tezuka…" Fuji says softly, trying to gently shake off the feeling of responsibility that had settled on his small shoulders.

"Why bring this up now?"

Tezuka's gaze meets Fuji's, and the smaller man sinks in the intensity of those eyes.

There he was. Here he is. Tezuka Kunimitsu. Captain of Seigaku's legendary dream team. His captain. His friend. His rival.

Tezuka makes him understand and carry ambition like a burden. The same thing happened in junior high, whether Fuji noticed it or not. He was sucked into the tennis club, observing and wondering at the boy with glasses whose eyes had shown nothing but determination in those days.

Even now.

Fuji steels himself—though he's not sure why—for Tezuka's answer.

"My shoulder. The doctors all say that it's impossible for me to keep playing."

And just like that, Fuji feels the burden get heavier. Or maybe that's his heart. Wailing in despair and anxiety because the world simply was not fair and would not leave him alone.

Being what others had termed a genius, '_Tensai_ Fuji Syusuke', in middle school and high school, Fuji pieces together Tezuka's message quite quickly. The sky actually seems to get darker, and Fuji doesn't know if it's because it is time for dinner.

He doesn't know if he should invite Tezuka back to the apartment Fuji fills with photography equipment and portfolios, where his tennis racket is hanging on the wall of his bedroom, untouched for nearly a year.

"Tezuka, I—"

One last excuse.

Fuji wishes Tezuka would let him beg one last excuse.

He is lazy. He cannot find his motivation. His tennis is too undeveloped. His ambition is and has always been buried. The calluses on his hands from earlier years have been replaced by calluses developed for handling cameras.

Beg one last excuse... like he'd always done when staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

Fuji looks up into the now rapidly darkening sky, and thinks to himself that dreams are funny things.

Goals are funny things.

Ambition and potential are funny things.

Why did fate give him a healthy, supple body when Tezuka's shoulder could no longer heal? Why—if Tezuka had so much passion and ambition and the skills to back it and Fuji had… what did Fuji have?

Fuji was happy to observe the world with his camera, to look and watch Tezuka and his teammates fulfill their dreams as he stood in the sidelines.

'So much potential' his family had said.

'So much potential' his neighbors had said.

'So much potential' his teachers had said.

'So much potential' the players from the other schools had agreed.

Fathomless. Impossible to measure.

Just… 'No ambition'. None.

In that, Fuji Syusuke would never compare to those most powerful and distinguished of his junior high tennis years. They all had what he lacked.

Even if bystanders and other players saw him as on par to the best, Fuji knew people like Tezuka and Echizen would only keep getting better, keep striving for their tennis. Fuji knew he would stop one day when tennis ceased to amuse, and then the gap would grow wider.

What then?

When Fuji finally finds words to say they are nearly lost in the wind.

"So it finally happened. Your shoulder. You coming here."

There's remorse. But not acquiescence. Not yet.

Tezuka puts a hand on Fuji's shoulder. Fuji feels the reassuring weight, but it's like a burden at the same time.

'_So much potential…_'

The words echo in his head.

"Fuji, you're too good to quit. You _will_ _be, can be,_ too good to quit."

He wanted to believe them.

He _wants_ to satisfy them.

But then Fuji realizes he's never known what he wants.

"Fuji, I know I'm late. This is late, but I've finally figured out that this is the way it should be. There's no guilt between us."

Fuji closes his eyes, and, unsurprisingly, he can still hear Tezuka's voice. It's firm, insistent, resonating.

"Damnit, Tezuka…" Fuji can feel the memories rushing in a brutal onslaught. It's bringing a salty liquid to his eyes, but Fuji refuses to blink. "This isn't nationals again… I've already got a job…and I'm not going as your replacement." His voice is choked, and Fuji doesn't know if this is the same desperation and embarrassment he felt during the match with Shiraishi during Nationals.

This guilt… guilt for Tezuka's shoulder, for Yuuta, who will never harbor that innate talent, for all those tennis players and fans who had believed in Fuji Syusuke once.

Somehow, Tezuka keeps talking, unyielding, with resolve.

He believes in this.

Somehow, Fuji almost believes for a moment, too.

"Go, Fuji.

Join the world of the pros. They're waiting. Everyone is waiting for you.

We've been waiting for years now."

* * *

When Fuji Syuskuke left Seishun Gakeun, he made the promise to his teammate, to his captain, to continue tennis in the future. It was his parting gift—as a rival, as a friend.

Eventually, he made well on the promise.

* * *

**End Prologue**

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**Suzu: Wow; I typed this after dinner one night. This story will probably have shorter and less descriptive (perhaps) chapters than my other works. Largely, the style and the tense will highlight the difference in genre and mood of this piece from my others.**

I've always wanted to write a Fuji Syusuke centric piece.

'Sleeping Beauty' was romance-centric, on the relationship between Tezuka and Fuji.

However, 'Tensai' is definitely more canon. It's more of a continuation. I originally wanted to turn this into an AU where Fuji went through junior high as someone with true ambition, not just hidden potential and latent skills. In that, he would be on par or even surpass Atobe and Sanada and Tezuka and what not.

However, that plot bunny yielded to this one, a sort of continuation piece. What if: is the catch phrase. What if Fuji, somewhere down the line, was pushed by Tezuka to take his place on international stage? With as much respect and admiration (and what else) that Fuji has for Tezuka Kunimitsu, I felt that a final, unrelenting push from his friend and rival would finally awaken some latent unrest in Fuji.

And so this story was born. In Prince of Tennis, audiences explored Echizen Ryoma's (predominantly) quest for tennis and the ultimate tennis.

Now, I will hopefully illuminate Fuji Syusuke's path of glory. He's a tricky character, because he's labeled as 'the scariest' of the team. In the manga, during his match with Kirihara, Fuji was termed as 'surpassing even Tezuka' in the state he was in. And yet, still no one has seen Fuji's potential reach a limit or show itself out in the open. Fuji lacks that drive that others in the manga have. Or, at the very least, Fuji is unable to generate the same drive others have, and faces some sort of psychological barrier (the Seigaku changing room mirror scenes).

Hopefully, this won't turn out to be a Fuji-glorifying frenzy with major bashing of all the opponents and other tennis players. However, since Fuji's potential is that immense, what if, coupled with a reason to succeed, he really were to go after world's number one?

This is a story about that journey, and the repercussions it brings.

**Wow, that was a long blurb. Hopefully, I addressed any concerns or questions as to what the heck I was thinking, starting this fic. It's been nagging me, so I wrote it out. **

**Updates will probably be more sporadic. Seven Nights (HMC fic) and Sleeping Beauty (PoT fic) will be updated with more gusto. This one, the one I really want to do a good job on, and just express myself, will be updated in a more contemplative manner. **

**This story also lacks a glossary, although there's some Japanese so far. If translation is needed, I'll reply. Really. I hope to reply to every comment for this particular story. **

**Thanks for reading, and I hope to hear from you all soon! Please feel free to comment or point out errors. I am unfamiliar with official tennis match proceedings, so feel free to correct me. **

**Also, if someone can tell me Tezuka Kunimitsu's birthday, that would be very helpful. And… can more than one person have the same international rank at one time? Maa ne…**

**Ja ne, **

**Suzu**


End file.
